The Mafia Princess

The door burst open with a iron-shattering bang, and a foot slammed directly into my chest before my eyes could even focus.

I hit the frozen stone wall of the cell, my lungs collapsing as the breath blew out of me in a wet gasp. Gravel bit into my back. Before I could scrape together enough air to breathe, a hand clutched my matted hair and yanked my head back until my neck popped.

"Get up, bitch," the head warden spat, his beer-soaked breath hot against my cheek. "Your time's up. The Alpha Heir is at the main gate."

He threw me forward into the slush. My palms skidded against jagged ice, tearing open old scars, but I didn't utter a sound. I didn't gasp, didn't wince, didn't cry out. Two years in Iron Ridge taught you the first rule of survival: sound only invites more pain. In the freezing dawn, I sat motionless in the dirt, hands flat on my knees, staring straight at the gravel while the heavy steel gates groaned open.

Inside my mind, where a vibrant, roaring white wolf named Astra used to run, there was only a hollow, dead quiet. Silver-Bane root, forced down my throat every week under the pretext of 'pacification,' had starved her to death. Or perhaps she had simply abandoned me when she realized no one was ever coming to save us.

Footsteps crunched against the frost—expensive, leather-booted steps that didn't belong in a penal colony.

"Vesper?"

The voice was warm, rich, and instantly familiar. Once, it was the voice that read me stories when I was seven, brought me sweet berries when I was twelve, and promised to stand by me forever when we were fourteen.

Heir Kaelen of the Vaelen Pack. My adoptive brother. The boy who had held my hands in the dark two years ago and whispered, “Just take the blame, Vesper. To save Mom's medicine. To repay the family. I’ll come for you in a month. I swear it.”

He hadn't come in a month. He hadn't come in a year.

I didn't lift my head. I didn't throw myself into his arms, nor did I sob against his pristine velvet coat. I simply remained on my knees, my breathing shallow and silent.

"Vesper, get up," Kaelen said, his voice tightening with a subtle edge of impatience. He stepped closer, expecting the weeping girl who used to beg for his approval, the girl who would have clawed through rock just to hear him say he was proud of her. "The guards said the paperwork took extra time, but I came myself. Aren't you going to look at me?"

Slowly, deliberately, I pushed myself up from the frozen mud. My body felt light, stripped of all muscle, my clothes hanging off my collarbones like a shroud. I raised my eyes to his face.

Kaelen flinched.

It was brief, a quick twitch of his brow, but I saw it. He was looking at the hollows of my cheeks, the dull gray cast of my skin, and the faded silver-scars creeping up my neck. But most of all, he was looking at my eyes. The bright, fiery amber he used to boast about was gone, replaced by a flat, empty brown.

"You... you look tired," he murmured, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out, then pulling back. "Why didn't you clean yourself up before coming to the gate?"

"This unit has no jurisdiction over facility amenities, Alpha Heir," I said. My voice came out raspier than I intended, dry like dead leaves dragging across concrete, but strictly formal. "I apologize for offending your sight."

Kaelen froze, his eyes widening slightly. "Alpha Heir? Vesper, it’s me. It’s Kaelen. Why are you talking like that?"

"It is proper protocol," I replied, keeping my hands folded in front of my waist, eyes lowered to the second silver button of his coat. "The Vaelen Pack holds command. I am a released convict."

"Stop it," he snapped, a flash of defensive anger masking the sudden flicker of discomfort in his chest. "Don't act like this. I know you're bitter, Vesper. I know two years was longer than we planned, but things were complicated at home! Zephyra was fragile, Mom was sick, and the Pack Council was watching us closely. I couldn't just pull you out without causing a scandal."

Zephyra.

The name didn't even stir a ripple in my chest. The golden biological daughter who had returned, stolen my room, stolen my family, and finally trapped me into taking the fall for her treasonous dealing in illegal dark-market spells.

"The explanations are unnecessary," I said softly. "My debt to the house is paid."

Kaelen exhaled a harsh breath, running a hand through his golden hair. "Let's just get in the carriage. We have a long drive, and there's a lot you need to understand before we reach the estate."

He opened the door of the gilded Vaelen carriage. I climbed in, sinking into the far corner, pressing my back as flat as possible against the wall so I could keep the door, Kaelen, and the driver in my direct line of sight at all times.

The carriage lurched forward. The rhythmic clack-clack of horses' hooves filled the silence between us.

"Look, Vesper," Kaelen began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, putting on his familiar 'protective older brother' persona. "Things are different at home now. Zephyra has fully integrated into the pack. She’s... she’s the heart of the Vaelen family now. And today is a critical day."

I stared out the frosted window, watching the jagged rocks of Iron Ridge fade into the pine forests.

"We have high-status guests arriving from the Northern Frostmark Dynasty," Kaelen continued, his voice dropping into a stern, warning tone. "Sovereign Valerius himself is visiting to discuss a border alliance and an arranged match. Mom is anxious. Zephyra is nervous. I need you to promise me that you won't make a scene when we get home. No screaming, no accusing Zephyra, no bringing up the prison time in front of the Lycan delegation. Do you understand?"

He was afraid I would ruin her big day. He was worried the girl who took a two-year prison torture sentence for his family would make his real sister uncomfortable.

"I understand," I whispered. "I will remain out of sight."

"Good," Kaelen sighed, looking visibly relieved, convincing himself that my quietness was just obedience. "You always were sensible, Vesper. Once this alliance is settled, we'll find a small house for you on the outer perimeter. You can live comfortably."

A small house on the edge of the territory. An outcast's shack.

As the carriage bounced over a rough patch of road, Kaelen reached across the small space. "Here, your sleeve is caught—"

He was just reaching to fix my cuff.

But as his hand moved fast toward my arm, my body moved before my mind could stop it. Two years of guards grabbing my wrists before a beating took over.

I violently threw myself down into the footwell of the carriage. I curled into a tight, frantic ball, tucking my head between my knees, wrapping both arms around my skull, and locking my shoulders tight to protect my throat. My whole body shook uncontrollably, my teeth chattering in a silent, terrified tremor as I waited for the heavy leather boot or iron rod to strike my back.

"Don't—don't hit! Please, don't hit!" The ragged words tore from my throat in a breathy, pathetic squeak.

Silence filled the carriage.

No blow came.

Seconds stretched like razor wire. Slowly, agonizingly, I loosened my grip on my own head and looked up through the tangle of my dull hair.

Kaelen was still sitting on the bench, his hand frozen mid-air.

His face was completely drained of color, his eyes stretched wide in absolute horror as he stared down at me—his adoptive sister, the girl who used to laughingly tackle him in the snow—cowering in the dirt at his feet, desperately shielding her head from his touch.

"Vesper..." Kaelen's voice trembled, a sickening fracture breaking through his calm composure.

"What... what did they do to you in there?"